Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

25

Uxolo woke to find Bucky, all bulky 6 feet of him, curled against the arm of her awfully small couch, tired eyes still focused on the television in front of him.

His arm was holding up his head, the flesh doing nothing to cool his overheated skin. His blinks were slow, uncoordinated, and she could tell from the look of him that he hadn't slept at all.

"James?" She croaked, shifting underneath the blankets she didn't remember stretching and fluffing out. "Have you been rewatching the same movie all night?"

Bucky startled at the sound of her voice; it was always so warm and smooth, he was unused to the gravel that littered it now. He nodded in the affirmative, shifting his hips a bit so his torso could straighten.

She sighed, straightening up herself and rolling her shoulders backward. "You could have changed it, I would not have minded."

Bucky rolled his head around his neck, opening his mouth to let a silent yawn escape. "That's alright, I wasn' really—"

"Oh, for Bast's sake!"

Bucky had never heard Uxolo speak that loudly, or in that tone. The sheer shock he felt from hearing that, from her of all people, had him scrambling, cursing himself for letting his guard down.

She was scrambling up herself, struggling to get her feet out from under the blankets. She was only able to push to her feet when Bucky reached out to help her, tugging the cloth from where it was tangled around her ankle.

It was almost fitting that Bucky had never heard this tone before, cause she seemed to be more angry at herself, and possibly the situation, than anything else.

"Inene, iya kundifikela le nto. Yile nto ndiyifumanayo!" (Of course this would happen to me. This is what I get!) She ranted, making random loops around the living room, picking up trinkets and things before dropping them just as quickly.

"What's wrong? Uxolo, what's—" Bucky tried to ask, rounding the couch to catch her before she could make another round. His right, flesh, hand wrapped around her wrist, calling for her attention, "Hey! What is goin' on?"

Uxolo smiled up at him just a bit, realizing how ridiculous this all probably look to him. To him, she looked frazzled, concerned, but no less stunning. "I am going to be incredibly late for a meeting."

She reached up to hold his wrist, just as naturally, giving him a quick squeeze so he knew that as dramatic as she was being right now, she'd be okay.

Uxolo began to pull away, just a bit, taking slow but large steps towards her bedroom. "You are more than welcome to stay here, James. I'll be back around 5, yeah?"

He nodded slowly, his brain needing a second to deplete all of the adrenaline it'd just sent in bucketloads throughout his body. Nothing was wrong; she was safe, they were safe, she was just in a rush.

"Good mornin', Uxolo." He murmured, without even realizing it.

She smiled. And even though she would most certainly be chewed out an extra minute for every second longer she was late, she rushed back over to James, held his jaw within her hands, and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

She pulled away just enough to be able to see his eyes.

"Good morning, James."

****

Uxolo was only a little bit upset to find on her return home that Bucky had left.

She hadn't fully expected him to remain there all day — she knew he was still a tad uncomfortable "intruding" on her space, and she had yet to find a way to convince him that was doing anything but. She'd work on it, though, slowly.

She could tell he'd stayed for just a little after she'd left; the couch still smelled a bit like him — that woodsy scent that seemed to follow him everywhere, and he'd cleaned everything up. The blankets they'd used were folded up and placed on the side chair, the popcorn remnants tossed in the trash, and the things they'd used stacked in the kitchen sink.

Upon closer inspection, she found that something had been changed — added — to her bookshelf, too. It was the book she'd lent to Bucky.

She pulled the book from its place — she had no idea how Bucky had remembered the exact location it'd been on before she gave it to him — and flipped the front cover open. Sticking out from the corner was a tiny piece of paper, and one she found the whole thing, she read the thank-you note Bucky had scribbled on it.

She grinned, fond, and slotted the book back into its home.

How much more unprofessional could she get — being attracted to, attached to, Bucky in this way. There was no surprise there, no secret she was keeping; Bucky was an attractive man, someone she was overly fond of because of this relationship they'd managed to build. Because of their situation, they had no choice but to trust each other, and Uxolo had taken great care in building it beyond a therapist-patient relationship.

She was sure anyone who asked would be uncomfortable with it; her acting with and feeling this way for someone she'd been formally asked to care for.

But being detached? Separating work associates from friends? She'd never been able to do it, had never even really tried.

With Bucky, she was glad she didn't.